


Winter Birds

by generaljanuary



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddling, First Time, M/M, More Like A Whole Lot of Feelings With a Little Bit Of Porn, Platonic bed sharing, Porn with Feelings, Turns to Non-Platonic Bed Sharing, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generaljanuary/pseuds/generaljanuary
Summary: Viktor’s face is turned away from him. If he strains his eyes, Yuuri can see the silver crown of the top of his head, but nothing more. He likes to imagine that Viktor’s features are relaxed into the rapturous expression he wears when he skates. The face that made Yuuri feel like there was nothing impossible in this world, back when he was but a boy filled with worship.





	

_Tell me how your heart leaps_  
at the thought of spreading your wings again  
Tell me of your hunger  
How your instinct has you trained  
The unexplainable longing  
that comes when the snow turns into rain  
-Winter Bird, Hawksley Workman 

 

\--

 

Viktor’s head is resting on his chest, pressing down on his sternum. It makes him feel conscious of every breath he draws and expels, makes him hyper-aware of every trembling part of his body. If he moves, the moment might end, so his body answers naturally; limp and pliant and pressed against the mattress. 

Viktor’s head is rocked by the rise and fall of his chest, cradled above his at once weak and strong heart. The weight and warmth of it makes Yuuri feel, dizzily, like he is sinking into himself. Like the core of him is bright and strong and sure. He feels complete, in a way. No anxieties vibrating out and orbiting him threateningly, chaotic and numerous, like parts of him splintered off, jagged and sharp, lost and ominous. No. He feels solid and anchored. His thoughts are centered and his chest feels heavy with heat and purpose. Yet…

Yet there is a rebellious soaring coursing through his tingling, weighted-down limbs, sweeping up his thudding heart into a breathtaking rhythm. There’s an unnamable feeling hooked into him, wonderfully painful, and it pulls up and up and up. It pushes out against his ribcage, swoops in a low arc in his belly in a way that makes him want to shift his thighs together. His obedient body remains immobile but for a shiver. 

“Yuuri…” Viktor moves and Yuuri almost convulses with the urge to use every muscle he has to keep him exactly where he is, but Viktor simply adjusts to lay even more of his weight on him and Yuuri exhales shakily. He feels himself sinking even deeper, a creature ecstatic to be tenderly pinned down. “Am I keeping you awake?” 

Viktor’s face is turned away from him. If he strains his eyes, Yuuri can see the silver crown of the top of his head, but nothing more. He likes to imagine that Viktor’s features are relaxed into the rapturous expression he wears when he skates. The face that made Yuuri feel like there was nothing impossible in this world, back when he was but a boy filled with worship. 

“N-no.” He answers. 

“Should I go to my own bed?” Viktor rubs his cheek slowly on Yuuri’s soft sleep shirt. 

“No!” Yuuri feels Viktor’s warm breath through the old cotton and it makes him feel like a flock of surprised birds is taking flight in his chest, wild and erratic and beautiful. “Stay.” His voice sounds weak to his own burning ears, unused to formulating demands; pleading in a way that makes Yuuri wince at his own neediness.

There’s a breathless pause in which Yuuri imagines Viktor moving away from him, getting up and taking all the warmth with him, and how terribly lost it would make him feel.

“Ok.”Viktor simply says, his voice carrying its usual lilt, the two syllables painted in his characteristic effortless joy.

Yuuri sighs in relief. He wishes for a moment that his body was soft as butter so that Viktor would sink into him, easy as gravity, and doze peacefully inside his chest.

“Are you comfortable?” Yuuri stutters out, not entirely sure why it feels suddenly so important for him to know the answer.

Viktor hums. “Very.”

Unexplainable bubbles of happiness swarm up Yuuri’s throat. 

“I’m glad.” he murmurs through them.

Viktor shifts again and this time, Yuuri can not stop his fingers from cutting though the spell of warm and safe immobility that Viktor seems to have cast on his welcoming body and they grasp fistfuls of Viktor’s sleep shirt. Viktor is looking at him now, his head no longer laying on Yuuri but the rest of him pressing against Yuuri comfortingly.

“I’m not going anywhere, krasavets.” Viktor says quietly, lips barely moving. His hair is tousled and Yuuri feels a wave of heat crashing into him.

“Ku-ra-sa… what?” 

Viktor laughs a little, body vibrating against Yuuri’s. He tightens his hold on Viktor and the back of his gripping fingers brush against the smooth, warm skin they uncovered in their possessiveness.

“Yuuri, am I not getting heavy?”

Yuuri swallows thickly.

“No.” he takes a deep breath and forces himself to look Viktor in the eyes unflinchingly as he allows one of his hands to slide from Viktor’s shirt to the bare small of his back. He presses down, as if they could possibly grow closer. “I like the way it feels.”

There it is, the rapturous expression Yuuri was imagining earlier, except it’s impossibly better than in his head. It’s not part of a performance he gets to witness on a screen. It’s genuine and just for him; Viktor’s beloved face so close Yuuri fancies he could feel the warmth rising pink on his cheeks.

Viktor presses his palm to the center of Yuuri’s chest and Yuuri thinks surely the bright, searing emotion there just beneath is skin should be burning to the touch, but Viktor doesn’t recoil. His hand, steadfast yet gentle, stays. As if reaching for the brightness, as if reaching for his heart, as if reaching for something precious.

“How does it feel?” Viktor asks, because yes, despite all the things left unsaid, they are actually carrying a conversation. 

Yuuri’s not sure what to say, but not for a lack of an answer.

How does it feel?

It feels like the thrill of freshly surfaced ice; a blank page waiting for him to skate a new chapter on it. 

It feels like when he noticed he’d stopped flinching whenever Minako-sensei would lightly touch him to correct his positions in his childhood ballet classes. Like earned trust and letting go. 

It feels like tightly lacing his bruised and bloodied feet into his skates. It hurts a little, but it’s worth it.

It feels like when he’s been rehearsing a choreography and he first realizes that he knows it. There’s no thinking anymore, just his body effortlessly moving. His body knowing what it needs to do, where it needs to be. 

It feels like landing a difficult jump for the first time. Like holding his breath and feeling his heart squeeze tight while he spins in the air. Hope making him more dizzy than the rotations. The triumphant clack of his blade against the ice and how everything inside him just releases in a sudden wave of trembling joy.

It feels like completing a program perfectly. Like letting a small voice inside him tell him that he deserves the cheers and applauses. It feels like a pride you can’t be ashamed of. 

It feels like when his dad first placed tiny, trembling Vicchan in his excited arms saying: “He’s yours, Yuuri. You have to take good care of him.” How he’d carefully stroked Vicchan’s small head and looked into his dark, trusting eyes and thought that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect him.

Yuuri doesn’t have the way with words to put all that in his answer to Viktor, so he says:

“It feels like a lot. It feels right.”

Those mere words seem so unsatisfactory to Yuuri. He brings his hand on top of Viktor’s on his chest and presses down. He leans forward and touches their foreheads together, as if hoping that by his sheer will Viktor could know how he feels, could read his mind.

“Yuuri…” Viktor breathes out, lips moving so close to Yuuri’s he can almost taste his own name. 

Yuuri wants. Definitely different from the way he wants to show the world that he is not a failure by winning the Grand Prix, but just as fierce. Viktor’s taught him that wanting is fine. That the things he wants are in his reach. He just has to give it his all and go for it. He just has to stop being afraid. Yuuri feels a lot of things he doesn’t dare put names to right now, but fear is not one of them.

Viktor’s eyes are searching as he brings his other hand to cradle Yuuri’s face. Yuuri slides his eyes shut, parts his lips and hopes that it’s enough because this last centimeter separating them seems to be the limit of what he can do by himself. He is not afraid and he wants, but above all he wants to be wanted. 

Viktor’s lips are soft against his and Yuuri’s immense relief takes the form of a breathy moan as he opens his mouth wider and dares to demand more. Viktor makes a sound filled with delight and wonder as he tentatively pushes his wet tongue between Yuuri’s lips and licks at the soft inside of Yuuri’s mouth. 

“Hai… Hai..” he pants against Viktor as he tries to nod, tries to breathe without breaking the kiss. He feels too overwhelmed to reach for English in his fevered brain, but he’s not sure his body adequately telegraphes to Viktor that whatever Viktor wants to give him, he’ll take it and cherish it. 

Yuuri’s hand is pushing up Viktor’s shirt and exploring his bare back. He tries to stroke but his hand presses a bit too hard with his need; warm stuttering friction of skin on skin. A touch Yuuri hopes means “Yes.” and “I want.”

Viktor whines again, high and hot and so, so thrilling inside Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri’s hard in his pajama pants and he wants Viktor to know. Wants his body to say: “Look what you’re making me feel. Me who’s never been touched and never mourned it. Feel it.” He parts his legs around Viktor and bends his knees. He rocks his hips and feels his hardness rubbing against Viktor’s and his eyes are closed but he still feels like he’s being blinded. His moan is so loud it opens his mouth wide and breaks the kiss with a wet sound. 

“Yuuri… you - you know how I feel about you, don’t you? You have to.” Viktor’s voice is unsteady and he’s out of breath. His lips look very red and Yuuri feels dizzy. Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand, kisses it and places it above is heart. “You have to.” he repeats and this time it’s him that sounds pleading. 

Yuuri tries to catch his breath but all the words he wants to say are enormous and stuck beyond the reach of his voice. He pants around them, thinks he can almost feel the burning of the brightness in his chest at the back of his throat. If he speaks, surely a sunbeam will come out of his mouth. He feels like he must be lighting up the whole room. 

“Me too. Viktor… Me too.” Yuuri nods. 

“You really do?” Viktor kisses his cheek gently. “Yuuri. I’m so happy.” 

Oh. Yuuri closes his eyes and bright lights pop up in Viktor’s after-image. Yes, together they must be lighting up the night itself. He rocks his hips again and Viktor hides a whimper in the crook of his shoulder. His fingertips are carefully slipping under the hem Yuuri’s shirt, trembling slightly as they dance curiously across the skin of his belly.

Yuuri had maybe thought about this, alone at night in his bed. Getting what he wants has always been a bit of an abstract concept to him, so he hadn’t dared to linger too much on the thought. But in his maybe-fantasy, Viktor had definitely been in charge, nebulously filling out the parts where Yuuri’s inexperience and fear-to-hope-because-hope-can-hurt drew his mind to a blank. He thought Viktor would be smooth and maybe smirking and Yuuri would just unravel. It hadn’t crossed his mind that this is something you do together, that this is not merely something he has to let happen to him. He’d focused on how he would react, had not really considered that how he makes Viktor feel is just as big a part of this equation. He’d thought only of this as handing all the hidden, easy to hurt parts of him to someone else. He didn’t take into account that he’d also receive something fragile and beautiful to hold and cherish in return. It’s… heady. 

“Viktor. Yes.” Yuuri whispers. 

Viktor’s body, as if sparked into life, starts moving with his own, hips rolling to meet his thrusts. Viktor is swelled and heavy and intriguing against his own arousal through their clothes. They’ve seen each other naked countless times in the onsen, but this is different. It’s real and there and hot between the two of them. It’s bodies doing what bodies do, but it means “I want you.” and “This is the way you make me feel.”. It’s out of control yet purposeful; taking and giving and sharing. It’s happening in his blazing nerve endings, but also in his mind and in his heart. The feeling of wholeness in his chest from earlier when Viktor’s head was like a cork holding all the parts of him together safely inside him expands and expands; a golden bubble around the two of them. 

Yuuri wraps his arms and his legs around Viktor who kisses him again with pleased little noises pouring out of his lips.

“Da… Da…” is the choked sound of Viktor’s mindless acceptance before he tenses and quivers and cries out his release into Yuuri’s warm, open mouth.

Yuuri follows almost immediately, high on the realization that they did this. Together. Not like a performance, more like a team sport. His heart twists ecstatically and all his muscles clench and shudder and it feels like the whole world is trembling with him. Everything is wiped blank and new, beautiful and glittering like light reflecting on ice. 

It feels like a lot. It feels right.

 

\--

 

The next day Viktor suggests they eat katsudon and Yuuri agrees because it does feel like they won something together.

 

\--

 

_You can count them up on one hand_  
those whose compassion you will take  
And you've always had a keen sense  
of whose love was real and whose was fake  
You telegraph your movements  
the ancient paths your take  
You say "it's all the repetition"  
And the choices you made for survival's sake  
-Winter Bird Hawksley Workman 

**Author's Note:**

> Krasavets is Russian for beautiful. Hai and Da mean yes, obviously. 
> 
> Title and lyrics are from the song Winter Bird by the incredible Hawksley Workman. While the song was a huge springboard for my inspiration, it didn't end up showing much in the text, I'm afraid, but I still chose to use it. 
> 
> So hum, I was thinking about writing a Yuri On Ice fanfic about ~sexual awakening~ when my warm, fat cat decided to come lie down on top of my chest and this happened. I haven't completed any piece of writing since 2011 so this is a HUGE deal to me. I just wanted to get something done. So much so that I almost ended it at the first "It feels like a lot. It feels right." but I powered through and I think I'm glad I did???


End file.
